Wren in Flight
by Ranlie
Summary: Robbie is visited by a representative of a prestigious villain's organization, but are they really interested in him, or are they after someone else? Continuation of Brown Bird series.
1. The Letter

Author's Note: More self-indulgent original character crap! Yes, yes, I know you're all just too excited. Please restrain yourselves. This story is another arc in the "Brown Bird" series. 

Disclaimer: I don't own anything but a finicky laptop and a disgruntled Toyota. When the mood suits her, I also own a cat. I certainly don't own Lazytown.

* * *

"Hi, Sportacus."

"Hi, Wren," Sportacus said, leaning over to look at the girl. "Are you okay?"

"Yup!" She smiled up at him. "You don't have to untie me. It's a trap."

Sportacus took in the situation. Wren was sitting comfortably on the ground, looking content for all that she had been tied to a lamp post. It took him a minute to see the trap, but when he did, he took a step back. A faint line was visible in the pavement in front of Wren, and he suspected that the trap door would be triggered if he untied her. A perplexed expression crossed his otherwise untroubled face.

Wren shook her head, seeing that he was upset. "Really, it's okay. You don't have to save me. Robbie should be by soon anyway."

"But it's my job--" Sportacus began.

"_Aaaargh!_"

Wren grinned. "There he is."

Robbie stomped up to them both. He swung about to give Sportacus a furious glare, then turned it on Wren. "You were supposed to ask him for help!"

The girl shrugged, then leaned foward as he began to untie her. "You could have gagged me."

"I'm not going to...mmph..._gag_ you...stupid knot...no matter how much of a brat you--"

"Wait, Robbie!" Sportacus and Wren shouted at the same time, but it was too late. When the last rope fell away, the trap door opened beneath Robbie's feet. He had time to yelp before he plunged downward.

Wren and Sportacus peered over the edge of the pit. Robbie was sprawled in an ungainly heap in a small pile of dirt. He groaned faintly.

"No, he'll just get annoyed," Wren said, reaching out to stop Sportacus from pulling Robbie out. "I've got it. You should probably go."

"You will be okay?" Sportacus asked. "He is rather...heavy."

Wren smiled at him cheerfully. "I'm getting used to it. And besides, he upgraded me case something like this happened." She paused, and gave a faint wince. "Again."

Sportacus shook his head in amused disbelief. "Just call if you have trouble," he said. Then, with a wave and a flip, he was off to do whatever above-average heroes did in their down time.

Wren watched him until he disappeared around a corner, then turned her attention back to the hole.

* * *

Robbie continued to glower as he watched Wren put his dirt-covered clothes into the wash. Occasionally he'd mutter something about robot girls who were too stubborn for their own good, but for the most part he pouted in silence.

Wren ignored him. They both knew that he needed time to cool off and start thinking of his next plan to rid the town of Sportacus. She went to the kitchen and began to rifle through the cupboards, looking for something with which to make supper.

She was looking thoughtfully at a can of capers and a jar of mincemeat when a bell rang. "Mail!" she said, to a silent Robbie. When he didn't move, she set aside supper for the moment and went to the mailbox.

Three letters greeted her. One was an electric bill...she'd have to give that one to Robbie when he was feeling less irritated. Another was a brochure for an "Antagonists Annual" calendar. The third...

"The Ministry of Miscreants, Mischief-Makers and Meanies?" Wren asked, holding the envelope up to the light. She squinted at it. "I didn't know you were part of that."

Robbie was out of his chair in a flash, and before she knew it, he'd ripped the envelope from her fingers and was eagerly opening it. His eyes shone with excitement. "They wrote _back_!"

Wren rolled her eyes in patient amusement. At least he'd be in a better mood now, and maybe she could convince him to eat something other than pizza, or cake, or cake shaped like a pizza. She went back to the tiny kitchen, and to the limited number of ingredients there.

By the time she had pulled together something resembling lasagna, Robbie had returned to his seat and was mumbling incoherently to himself as he read a thick brochure that had apparently come with the letter. Wren brought over a plate and set it on his lap, ignoring his annoyed grunt as he had to move his reading material to one side. He looked down at the food and frowned.

"Did you put mincemeat in this?"

Wren shrugged, and sat down beside him in a smaller, identical orange chair. "You never gave me taste. I did my best."

Robbie took a tentative bite, and winced. "You _are_ evil."

"Eat that and I'll make brownies."

"Hmph," he grumbled, but continued to eat nonetheless. She knew his weaknesses.

"So what's in the letter?" Wren asked, craning her head to see if she could catch a peek. Robbie obligingly handed over the letter, and she began to skim it quickly.

"Five-M is the most prestigious organizations of villains in the world," Robbie explained as she read. "I wrote to them about Sugarpie, and a representative is going to come to write an article about him!"

Wren continued to read as she asked, "Who's Sugarpie?"

Robbie "ahem"ed and straightened his collar. "Why, the Robbiedog 2000, of course!"

"Didn't he try to eat you?" asked Wren. She had vague recollections of Stephanie telling her about a rabid robot dog at one point or another. Or maybe she'd been eavesdropping on her and the other kids, who were still afraid of her.

Robbie broke her train of thought with an indignant sniff. "Well, _yes_," he said through a mouthfull of mincemeat lasagna. "But I'm sure can repair him in time for the visit. Besides, all he has to do is look vicious."

"Hm," Wren murmured. They lapsed into a brief silence as he ate and she read. Finally, she closed the last page of the brochure and looked up at him. "Well, you've got a lot of work to do if you're going to be ready for tomorrow."

"T-tomorrow?" Robbie gasped. He lurched from his chair, and Wren had to make a dive to catch the plate that fell to the ground as a result. Robbie paused to look down at her in surprise. "Wren! Get up! This is no time to be lazing around!"

"I thought all the time was the time to be lazing around," Wren said, but he ignored her. By the time she got to her feet, Robbie had run off to the storage room and was throwing sundry broken inventions behind him in his search for the Robbiedog. Wren grumbled a bit, having just cleaned it out the past week, but her heart wasn't in it.

"Dumb dog better not mess in the workshop," she muttered, as she began totidy up thechaos left in his wake.


	2. The Coup

"I can dress myself, you know," Robbie snapped, batting Wren's hands away from his collar. She had a stubborn set to her chin, and reached up to give it one final tweak before she abandoned the effort. 

She had to admit, he looked nice. The regular purple and blue outfit had been replaced with a suit in the same colours. Wren had even managed to convince him to wear a tie, although she'd had to promise to watch some cooking shows before he'd do it. His hair was slicked back and shiny, and a gold pocketwatch chain glinted from his left pocket.

For her part, Wren hadn't changed. Robbie had made it clear that she was in charge of holding the Robbiedog 2000, and of being the bait when it became demonstration time. Her old black jumper would suit the job just fine. Robbie had given her a new ribbon for her hair, though. He'd insisted that it was only because her old one was looking worn, but the fine border of lace on its edges belied his pragmatism. Wren smiled to herself as she tied the ribbon securely in place.

"This is no time to be grinning like a deranged lunatic," Robbie grumbled. He struck a final pose in front of his mirror, then sent it up into the ceiling. "They'll be here any minute."

As if fate had heard him, a loud clang reverberated through the workshop. Robbie looked horrified, but Wren grinned in excitement. "I'll get it!" she said, running to the workshop's hatch. "You stay here and look important!"

Wren scampered up the ladder and thrust open the door. She poked her head out. "Helloandwelcometotheworkshopof...of..." words failed her as she looked up--and up, and up--at their guest.

A monstrous man loomed over her. He was wearing a pristine black suit and a pair of sunglasses. He was pale, like her, and bald. His expression was impassive, as if he came to underground workshops every day.

"I hope we are at the address of Mister Rotten?"

Wren blinked, startled that the man could speak without moving his lips, then realised that there were two people at the door. She looked down, and found the source of the voice. A small man of perhaps four feet gave her a smile like an oil slick. He was dressed in a series of orange and green layers, giving him an eye-straining look that she could only describe as "radioactive". His black hair was sharply tied back in a ponytail, and his eyes were such a dark brown that they looked black. He carried a ebony cane with a piece of amber on the end. Wren thought she saw something trapped in the amber, but he closed his hand over the end before she could get a good look.

"Um," she stammered, trying to regain her composure. "Yes, sir. May I see you in?"

The small man nodded, and as a group they made their way back down into the workshop. Wren was sure to keep her gaze down as she offered to take their coats--they declined--and saw them into the main room.

"Mister Rotten?" she said, as she'd been instructed to. "Sir, you have guests."

Robbie twirled around on his fluffy orange chair, looking like the epitome of the unconcerned libertine. He managed to keep up the façade for several moments before his gaze fell upon the shorter man. When that occurred, he made a sound that was half-cough, half-wheeze, and rose from his chair. "Y-you!"

Wren, confused, looked back and forth between Robbie and the newcomers. The tall man still looked as if he could be asleep behind those sunglasses, while the shorter one only smiled more broadly.

"Robbie Rotten," he said, stretching the vowels until it came out as an insult. He had a faint accent that Wren couldn't place, but she decided that she didn't like it. It wasn't friendly like Sportacus'.

"Imagine how surprised we were at the Ministry to receive a letter from you," the man continued. He passed his cane to the taller man and began to pinch off his snowy white gloves one finger at a time. "That is, a letter that wasn't filled with the usual drivel. We'd almost given up on reading them, to be honest. Then you send us something truly interesting."

Robbie looked as if he'd inhaled a goldfish. His eyes darted to one side of the workshop, then the other, but they were standing in front of the only easy escape. He swallowed mightily, and tried to regain his look of confidence.

"Malory Malevolent."

"Oh, tut. Just Malory to my friends, Rob," Malory admonished. "You should know that." He finished with his gloves and tucked them into a pocket. He waved one hand vaguely over his shoulder. "And this is the Mallory Automaton, version three."

Robbie glanced at Wren, and she snapped her mouth shut when she saw his eyebrow twitch. Perhaps this wasn't a good time to ask what the other robot's name was.

He turned his attention back to Malory.

"You were an Evil Cohort the last time I saw you," Robbie said. "You've been promoted."

"Yeeees," Malory drawled. "The Vindictive Vole decided that he'd be better off as a painter, and you know Mary Misery: it was amazing that she held it together long enough to get to High Villain in the first place. It was only a matter of time until I became a full-fledged villain."

"But you're still stuck with an administrative job?" Robbie asked, causing Malory to twitch slightly. "Fascinating, Malory. I'm sure you're well suited to the position."

"Hmph," Malory snorted. He waved at his automaton, who came forward to give him back his cane. When he turned back to Robbie, there was a smile glued to his face. "Now. Let's see this dog of yours, and I'll be on my way."

At a nod from Robbie, Wren hurried to the back of the workshop. There was the sound of a cage squeaking open, then a low scrape as the girl dragged the inanimate Robbiedog back to the small gathering.

Robbie took his cue. With a swaggering step, he circled the Robbiedog with a bravado he usually reserved for private moments of villainous plotting. He described his creation in detail, highlighting everything from its serrated teeth to the extra-bright lightbulb he had installed on its tail.

His audience was less then appreciative. Malory had a haughtiness about him that Wren didn't like. She was proud to see that it wasn't affecting Robbie: despite his initial shock, dealing with these kinds of people seemed to be his secret milieu. Even Malory had to give an impressed snort at some of the Robbiedog's features.

"That's all well and good, Rob," Malory snarled, cutting Robbie off halfway through a description of the robot's fur, "But you've always been all talk. Let's see if this thing will actually do what you say it does."

Robbie glanced down at Wren, who nodded. She knelt down and flicked the Robbiedog's switch into the "ON" position.

The dog immediately shuddered to life. It looked around as if confused, then hunkered down and began to growl menacingly. Malory looked impressed despite himself.

Wren readied herself, making certain that the rope Robbie had set up earlier was within easy reach. She crouched down.

"Trouble!"

The reaction was immediate and violent. The Robbiedog hurled itself toward her, teeth bared as it barked its excitement at doing what it was built to do. Wren waited until it was a few feet away before leaping into the air and grabbing the rope. She hung there like a black-ribboned monkey as the dog circled beneath her, barking and bawling its frustration at having lost its prey.

Malory looked irritated. "Well. It...does seem to do what you say," he spat from around a deep scowl. "I suppose it's worth reporting to the ministry."

"I thought you'd see things my way," Robbie said, pleased with himself. He walked over to flick the Robbiedog's switch into the off position. It immediately dropped its head and went silent.

Malory's expression had changed from irate to pensive by the time Robbie had helped Wren down from her safe spot. He nodded to his own robot, who obediently pulled a small, hard box from a hidden pocket and handed it to Malory.

"Rob...Robbie," Malory said, his tone sleazy. "Here's the thing. Even if the ministry _is _interested in this mechanical dog of yours, they won't do anything about it but write up a little article in the next Villain's Weekly." He approached Robbie, and opened the box when he was close enough to see what was inside.

Wren was too far back to see what it was, but she did notice that Robbie's jaw had tightened imperceptibly.

"I can offer you something else," Malory continued. "All you have to do is give _me_ that ridiculous hound, and I'll give you this. It's a fair trade, don't you think?"

Robbie was still for a long moment, but when he finally looked back up at Malory, there was a smile in his eyes despite the frown on his lips. "Malory," he drawled. "I should have known. Couldn't make it yourself, so you've been buying out others and taking credit for their inventions. Bra-_vo_."

Malory's brow twitched. "I'm making you an offer, Rob. You'd be foolish to turn me down."

"I'm not turning you down," Robbie replied. He put one hand out and closed the box gently. "I'm refusing to make a deal with a fool. Now get out of here before I report you to the ministry."

Wren wondered if Robbie had given her the ability to turn the different colours that Malory was turning now. The man snatched back the box and threw it at his automaton, who caught it deftly and stashed it away.

"Fine," Malory snarled. He turned on his heel and headed for the exit. "Don't say I didn't try to be fair." He paused with one hand on the ladder's rail. "Get the dog."

Robbie barely had time to shout before Malory's automaton had the Robbiedog in its massive arms. He curled his hands into fists. "Malory, you lying weasel!" he shouted, knowing better than to attack such a gigantic machine. "I'll have you brought before the ministry for this!"

"Oh, tut, Rob...who are they going to beli--hey! HEY!"

Wren either didn't have Robbie's sense, or she wasn't afraid of the automaton. The girl had leapt onto the bigger robot's back and was scrabbling with one hand at the Robbiedog as she tried to hang on with the other. The robot was bewildered, and stumbled backwards as it tried to adjust to its attacker.

Perhaps because of its stumble, Wren's outstretched fingers snagged on the Robbiedog's switch. The dog's eyes lit up, and it began to growl softly.

"Trouble!" Wren shouted as loud as she could. She wrapped her arms around the automaton's neck as her legs wound around his chest. "Troubletroubletrouble!"

The bigger robot grunted as the Robbiedog attached itself to its face. Its arms flailed wildly as it staggered about, overwhelmed by girl and dog. Wren kept shouting "trouble!", enraging the Robbiedog further.

"Get OFF it!" Malory shrieked. He took a few steps forward, then flicked open the top of his amber cane and pressed a series of buttons there. The automaton briefly shuddered to a halt, then began to move with more deliberation. It reached up to pull the dog off its neck with one hand, and grabbed Wren with the other. Dog and girl wriggled madly in the robot's grip.

"Bring the dog. Toss the girl," Malory ordered. The automaton tossed Wren to one side like a rag doll, and she struck a shelf with a resounding clang.

"...clang?"

"Wren!" Robbie shouted, hurrying to examine the fallen girl. She blinked blearily up at him, and reached up to push her hair out of her face.

"Oh," she murmured, as she realised that part of her skull had come away. She'd never been able to repair it properly, and now it had fallen over one eye. Robbie helped her pull it away, disentangling it with gentle fingers from the rest of Wren's curls.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, it's the clip..."

"But your hair..."

"It's only _hair_, Robbie..."

The pair suddenly realised that Malory was still waiting. Robbie shot upright and whirled on his enemy. "Take the dog! Just take the dog and get out!"

But Malory didn't move. A slow smile of delight crossed his face as he surveyed the scene before him, and he began to drum his fingers thoughtfully on his cane. "_Rob_," he breathed. "You created a robot with _feelings_."

To Wren's surprise, the colour drained from Robbie's face. He gaped at Malory. "You...you can't. She's not for that!"

"_She!_" Malory crowed gleefully. "Priceless! Here I thought that you'd hired a local girl, or perhaps even fathered a little Rotten of your own, but you went and built a little companion all for yourself! Oh, don't fret. I'm sure I'll find some evil use for her that you just haven't thought of."

"You can't!" Robbie stammered. He took a step back, and one hand went to hover protectively over Wren. "Take the dog, Malory. You can't have her!"

"Get them both," Malory ordered his automaton.

Wren shrieked as the robot pushed Robbie to one side and grabbed her by the front of her dress. "Robbie! _Robbie!_"

"_Wren!_"

Wren wriggled and bit and pounded at the robot's hand with all her strength, but it refused to let go. It lowered her for a moment, and she readied herself for an escape, but the face of Malory made her stop.

He gave her a cheery grin. Wren opened her mouth to shout at him when she felt cool fingers scrabbling at the back of her neck.

And then the world went dark.


	3. The Plan

Wren awoke with a shudder. Her processor felt as if it were stuffed with cotton. Programs slowly came to life, and a quick review of her system showed no lasting effects from the hard boot. Her head slowly cleared, and she realised that she was sitting on the floor, and was firmly chained to something.

"Aah!"

Surprised, Wren let out a yell and jerked her head back, only to have it smack against something hard. The stern face that had startled her pulled back as well, but with more poise. Malory looked displeased.

"Stupid thing. All emotions and no brain." He drummed his fingers on his cane briefly, thinking. "Tell me where your hard drive is."

Wren shook her head. That had hurt! She glared up at Malory, her lips set in a determined scowl.

"Everything looks the same inside of you," Malory said, looking irritated. "I need to know where your memory drive is so I can wipe it. Tell me!"

"No!" Wren said, more surprised than anything else. Did he really expect her to let him do that? "Take me home right now!"

"Or what?" Malory snapped.

"Or..." Wren thought quickly. She hadn't expected him to call her bluff. "Or...or I'll sing!"

"Sing?" That gave Malory pause. He'd never been threatened with singing before. Poison, yes. Immolation, even. Decapitation, certainly! But never singing.

Wren turned up her voice box and began to sing,

_"Anything can happen!  
"Anything at all!"_

Wren sang with all the abandon of a young child, and with all the talent. Her head tilted to one side and back as she sang tunelessly, her voice bouncing off the walls of the room and coming back to assault Malory's ears over and over again.

"No!" Malory clapped his hands over his ears and shrunk back from her. This was worse than anything he had ever experienced before! Even worse than that time with the giraffes!

_"...things can change,  
"No matter how weird or wild or strange..."_

"Stop, stop, stop!" Malory shouted. He stomped one foot in frustration. "Stop that this instant or I'll turn you off permanently!"

That did it. Wren stopped mid-word, and her silent mouth hung open briefly before she thought to close it. She glowered at Malory. "I'm still not showing you where my hard drive is, you jerk."

"Fine," Malory growled. "We'll do this the hard way." He went to a stump of a computer in the corner and pulled out a rainbow of long wires. Wren eyed them warily as he attached one end of the wires to the computer, and brought the other ends to her.

Rough hands pushed her head forward, and just before he jabbed the first plug into her neck, Wren realised what he was going to do. He was going to go through her files one at a time until he found her memory. It would take him a long time, but he'd find it. He'd find it, and then she wouldn't be Wren anymore. She'd be nothing.

She shrieked and wriggled like a wildcat, but the ropes were tight and his grip firm. He stabbed her again and again, inserting a wire wherever it looked like one might belong. Soon she felt as if she were a pincushion. Robbie had never treated her like this!

Malory moved away and went to his little computer. Wren could feel him inside of her as soon as he touched the keyboard, and she loathed him for it. For the first time, she was afraid.

Wren closed her eyes and set to work hiding her most important files. She sent them deep, deep, deep, hiding them behind innocuous-looking protocols and drivers. All the while, though, one thought ran through her mind.

Robbie would come. Robbie would come.

He had to.

* * *

"Get down here, you ridiculous blue elf!"

Stephanie looked up from her game of jacks. Robbie was standing in the middle of the sports field, shouting up at the sky, his face as purple as his vest. He shook his fist at the blue airship that floated demurely above him.

"It works better if you just send him a letter," Stephanie said, loud enough that he could hear her. Robbie stopped shouting to glare at her, and she shrugged. "Just sayin'."

"When I want your opinion, you pink pom pom, I'll--"

"Good to see you are getting along so well," a voice interrupted. Robbie clutched his chest dramatically as Sportacus dropped from the sky.

"Don't _do_ that!" Robbie exclaimed. He gave himself a shake, as if to rid himself of his surprise, and tried to regain his composure.

"Someone took Wren," Robbie continued. "His name is Malory, and he wants to use her for his nefarious plans." He took on an air of innocence. "Something I find horrifying, to be sure. He'll have to wreck her before he'll be able to convince her to do anything evil. The child has more good in her than a box of kittens!"

Sportacus looked solemn, and Stephanie, who had abandoned her game, had a pensive look on her face.

"Where could they be?" Sportacus asked.

"I think--" Stephanie started.

"Quiet, pinkie," Robbie snapped. "I don't know where they are. Wren saw them in, and when they left, they jammed the door. I was stuck in there for an hour before I could find the release latch."

"If they went far, we will have a hard time finding them," said Sportacus. He looked worried.

"But I know--"

Robbie cut Stephanie off again. "They won't have gone back to the ministry yet. He'll have to revamp her first, to convince them that he made her. There's no point bringing in a robot that's going to tell them the truth."

"What ministry--" Sportacus began.

"_He's up there!_" Stephanie shouted, the words tumbling from her lips in a jumble, as if she were afraid that she might get interrupted again. She pointed at the sky, and Sportacus and Robbie both looked up.

A mangy-looking Zeppelin hung in the sky, far above Sportacus' delicate airship. It was grey in colour, and looked as if it had recently been dug out of a junk heap. (Which it might have, Robbie reflected.) It seemed to be propelled by a series of propellers that stuck out at odd angles. At the moment, however, it was immobile.

"How long has that been there?" Robbie asked, surprised.

Stephanie rolled her eyes. "Since this morning. It looks pretty evil to me. I bet you that's where Wren is."

"Good eyes, Stephanie." Sportacus put a hand on her shoulder. "I'll take the sky chaser to get her."

"'I'll take the sky chaser'," Robbie mimicked in a high voice. He sneered at them both. "This is Malory Malevolent, we're talking about. Even you, with all your push ups and jumping jacks, can't just waltz in there and take whatever you want. We need a plan!"

"I could challenge him to a race," Sportacus suggested thoughtfully.

"He's shorter than the pink pipsqueak here," Robbie replied with disdain. "He'd know he'd lose. I say that I shoot him down with my cannon."

"But then Wren would be shot down too," Sportacus said. The pair frowned in tandem. They were good enough at foiling each other, but a rescue mission wasn't like anything they'd had to do before.

"Guys?"

They turned to look at her. Stephanie grinned and reached into her shoulderbag. She pulled out a pink ribbon that fluttered in the breeze and used it to tie her hair back, just as Wren did.

"Stephanie..." Sportacus began, a warning tone in his voice.

"It's the only way," said Robbie, impressed despite himself. It was a good plan. He wished he had thought of it.

"I'll be careful," Stephanie promised, reaching out to hold Sportacus' hand. She looked up at him with a puppy-dog expression in her eyes. If he had looked, Sportacus would have seen a similar look in Robbie's face.

Sportacus sighed. It was going to be a long day.


	4. The Flight

"The next model?" 

Stephanie made sure to stand very still, her eyes closed, head bent forward and hands clasped meekly in front of her. Robbie stood at her side, one hand on her shoulder. His fingers pressed into her skin every time she made the slightest twitch, but she didn't really mind. She was starting to figure out Robbie Rotten.

If Stephanie had been able to look up, she would have seen Malory eyeing her speculatively. His fingers drummed interminably on his amber cane.

"I thought if you were going to present my work as your own, you might as well take the best," Robbie said haughtily. "A matter of personal pride, you see. Besides, I have a personal attachment to the one you have. First working model and everything. You understand."

Malory looked wary. "What can it do that the other one can't?"

"Lots of things," Robbie said, waving off his doubts. "The other one doesn't have the aptitude to carry out anything complicated. This one does. It's smarter, more adaptable, and better equipped."

Malory muttered something under his breath, too quiet for either Robbie or Stephanie to hear. "What was that?" Robbie asked.

"I said," Malory replied with a sneer, "Can it sing?"

Robbie blinked. Of all the questions he had been expecting, that wasn't one of them. "Of course it can," he said. "It can, uh, dance, too. Look."

He reached up to the back of Stephanie's neck, and flicked the fake switch that he'd glued there. It pulled at the little hairs on the back of her neck, but she only winced a little. She looked up and smiled beatifically.

"Sing and dance for the nice man, Stephanie," Robbie commanded.

She did so, singing her favourite song and putting in as many twists and spins into her dancing as she could think of, trying desperately to impress Malory. If he didn't take her, then she wasn't sure what they would do.

Malory watched with detached amusement. This one certainly could sing and dance, though why Robbie had made her pink was beyond him. It was such a ridiculous colour. He raised one hand, and Stephanie, realising that he'd had enough, stopped and went back to stand beside Robbie.

"Fascinating," Malory said. He smiled at Robbie, and tapped his cane on the ground. His automaton took a step forward, so that he towered over the man's right side. "I'll make you a deal," he said. "I'll take this one, and keep the other one, and you'll do nothing to stop me."

"Er," mumbled Robbie. This wasn't part of the plan. But then, he couldn't argue with that monstrosity at Malory's side. "I...suppose so."

He could feel Stephanie quivering with anger beside him. It wasn't her that he was worried about: Sportacus already disagreed with this plan, and he would flay him once he learned that nothing good had come of it.

Malory moved forward and reached one hand out. Stephanie looked beseechingly at Robbie, but there was nothing that could be done. She took Malory's hand, and with a posessive grin, he led her away.

* * *

Wren wasn't sure how many times she'd heard her name repeated before she understood that her files were no longer being searched. She blinked slowly. She felt awful: all the rearranging of her software left her feeling as if her insides had all been taken out and put back in upside down.

"I remember!" Wren shouted, jerking upright. Her memory was still there! She was Wren! She belonged to Robbie Rotten, who lived--

"Shush!"

Wren blinked again, and realised that Stephanie was kneeling in front of her. "Stephanie?" she asked, quiet this time. "What are you doing?"

Stephanie muttered something under her breath as she struggled with the lock that kept Wren chained to her post. She fumbled with a heavy ring of keys for several moments until Wren realised that she waas being rescued.

"The bronze one," Wren said, nodding toward the ring. "That one--no, the other--yes."

"He's gone to change or eat or something," Stephanie whispered, breathing fast. The lock clicked open, and she yanked at the key to get it out. "He'll be back any second. He thinks I'm a robot, and that I'm better than you, and we have to get out of here before--"

They both froze as they heard a tap, tap, tap in the hallway. Malory's cane. Stephanie leapt to her feet and, after shoving the keyring back into a desk drawer, stood very still in a corner. Wren sat back against the post and hoped that he wouldn't look too closely at her bindings. Part of her thought that she'd do well to seem comatose, but curiousity overcame her and she continued looking about.

Malory strolled into the room, cane in one hand, a plate of pie in the other. He looked supremely satisfied with himself.

"Ah, feeling more chatty now, hm?" he said when he noticed that Wren was awake. He grinned at her. "Your friend Robbie gave me an even better one than you. And this one's obedient to me!"

"You can let me go now, then," said Wren, darkly.

Malory laughed and shook his head. "No, no. I think I'll keep you for the same purpose as Rob did. I could use a maid around the place. You won't need your memory or emotions for that, though. I'll have one of my minions go through your files when I've got more time. You do seem to have hidden your important files rather well for such a simple robot."

"Too simple for you to make," Wren spat. It was something she'd learned from Robbie: hide your fears behind anger. She hoped it worked. All they needed was for him to go away for a while, and they could find a way to sneak out. They couldn't be that far from Lazytown, if Stephanie had been able to make it here.

Malory shrugged, and went over to Stephanie. He pushed her foward, and after an initial stumble, she stood stock still and let him examine the back of her neck. She hoped that Robbie had made her switches and plug ends look realistic, or she'd be in trouble.

Malory seemed satisfied, however, and she was able to straighten after a moment's examination. He moved to stand in front of her.

"What are you?" he asked.

"A Malorybot 2000," Stephanie replied obediently. "The newest in evil villain robotic technology."

Malory grinned. "Excellent, excellent. I can show you to the Ministry with no problems, I think. With the robot dog, I should be able to move up to Master Villain with no problems at all. That speeds things up considerably." He rubbed his hands together. "We can head back to the Ministry immediately."

"Immediately?" Wren and Stephanie spoke at the same time, startled.

"Of course," Malory replied, not having noticed their surprise. "I only remained here to reprogram the little one. No need for that now." He headed for the door. "Malorybot, clean this place up. We need to have everything spick-and-span for the Ministry's investigators tomorrow."

Wren and Stephanie stared as the door slid shut behind him.

"We have to go," they said in tandem. Wren started to unwrap herself, and Stephanie was soon helping her. The floor felt as if it shuddered to life just as they finished, and they had to lean on each other in order to rise, as the ship began to move.

They made it to the door just as it slid open by itself. The two girls stared up at the gargantuan figure before them. Wren thought she heard Stephanie squeak.

"Unauthorised exit," the automaton said dully. Before they could move, it had them both by the back of their dresses, and had lifted them into the air.

"Let us go!" Wren shouted, wriggling madly, but she knew it was hopeless. This is how it happened the last time. He'd turn her off and reformat her hard drive and she'd be nothing but a brainless maid-bot who couldn't tie her own...

But then, just as suddenly as she'd been lifted from the ground, Wren fell back down with a thump. She blinked, and looked back up at the automaton to see what had happened.

Stephanie sat on his shoulder, looking for all the world like a cat after a good meal. She kicked her feet out playfully, and grinned down at Wren. The automaton was hunched foward slightly, and looked no more menacing than a big rock.

"What..." Wren began, but she was at a loss for any more words than that.

"A trick I learned from Sportacus," Stephanie said, as she slid down the automaton's arm and landed with considerably more grace on the metal floor. She made a little super-hero pose. "Besides, it's easy when they've got off switches."

"But you..." Wren stammered, still surprised. "You always need rescuing. Sportacus..."

The look Stephanie gave Wren was all the answer she needed. Wren blinked. "...oh."

Stephanie grinned and grabbed her hand. "Come on! We have to get out of here!"

"Wait!" Wren darted back into the workshop and grabbed the dormant Robbiedog. She would never forgive herself if she forgot him.

The pair pounded down the hallway until they came to a door marked "Emergency Exit". They pulled and pushed at the lever until it slammed open, and Wren had to grab Stephanie's arm to keep her from being sucked out of the zeppelin as the air pressure changed.

"We're in an _airship_!" Wren exclaimed, looking down at the distant earth. "How are we supposed to get down without being mashed into parts?"

"Remember what you said about always getting rescued?" Stephanie asked, a mischevious grin on her otherwise innocent face.

"I said...oh, no," Wren shook her head vigorously. "You don't even know if we're near Lazytown! What if he misses? Robbie might be able to put me back together, but you're made up of squishy stuff!"

"One!" Stephanie shouted, still grinning.

Wren made a pained noise. Humans were so stubborn. "Two..." she said miserably.

"Three!" they said together, and leapt from the zeppelin.

Wren had never flown before. She supposed that it would be a lot better without all the falling. She clutched Stephanie's hand tightly, and wished that she had been made without a fear program. Twice she felt Stephanie's hand loosen its grip as the girl struggled to catch her breath, but Wren didn't let go. They fell, and fell, and fell...

* * *

"_Broken!_"

Robbie nodded solemnly. "The Robbiebot series had an unfortunate jealous streak. I had to keep her separated from the newer robots at all times."

Malory stared at the mish-mash of assorted robot parts that lay before him. A lithe arm there, with wires sticking out of it. A tuft of pink hair stuck to a motherboard. Wren's ribbon fluttered in the breeze, held down by a bit of gnarled metal. He looked profoundly disappointed.

"It'll take me years to rebuild," Robbie said with a sigh. "Decades. I probably should have mentioned that little problem to you."

Malory, who had already turned white, began to quiver with rage. He shouted something unintelligible and threw his cane on the ground. "My promotion!" he moaned, as he headed back toward his grounded zepellin. "Gone! I'll have to bring in a dozen superheroes before they'll let me live down this blunder..."

Robbie waited until Malory was out of earshot before he let out a long-held sigh of relief. He toed at a knot of wires that had rolled, tumbleweed-fashion, up to his foot.

"Is he gone?"

"He's gone."

Wren poked her head out of a nearby recycling bin. She reached up for help, and Robbie picked her up and deposited her on the ground with care. She smiled at him, and he gave her a wan smirk in return.

"He won't be coming back," Robbie said, looking up at the clear blue sky above them. Sure enough, the grey zepellin began its slow progress south, back to the ministry. "He'll focus on someone else, or he might even do some of his own work, for once."

"His robot was pretty neat," Wren said. Robbie gave her a startled look, and she blushed. "Well, he was big, anyway."

"I made you small in case you took it into your head to tear my leg off, like the dog," Robbie explained, as he leaned down to retrieve her ribbon. "Perhaps that was a bad idea. I could always cover you in quills, or sharpen your teeth."

"Robbie, no!" Wren laughed, and a true smile flickered on his lips. She grabbed his hand and pulled him toward home. "Come on! Stephanie got to go home ages ago."

"Only because the mayor threatened to tie her to her bed after you both fell from the sky," Robbie replied. With an air of fatherly tolerance, he let her drag him back toward the billboard.

"Sportacus caught us!" Wren appeared to be full of childish impetuousness now, all her previous fears forgotten in light of the fact that they'd both survived. "Though I don't think the mayor will ever forgive either of them."

"Or either of us," replied Robbie. He didn't look concerned. "But I _will _tie you to your bed if you ever try a stunt like that again."

"I don't have a bed."

"_A_ bed, then."

Wren laughed. "All right. No more skydiving."

"'Skydiving' and throwing yourself out of a zepellin are two different--"

"Would you look at that!" Wren cut him off, and with a helpless look, ran off to the workshop's entrance. "Batteries are low. Can't talk, got to recharge quick!"

Robbie rolled his eyes. "First Sporta-kook and the pink pom pom, and now a robot who talks back," he muttered. "I remember when I _liked_ this town."

But he followed her nonetheless, though not before he carefully tucked the black ribbon into his breast pocket.


End file.
